No Jacket Required
by WhiteFeather1965
Summary: An AU based on "Steele Threads." What if Laura takes off the jacket before being shot? Though not dead, she remains unconscious. The bullet is lodged near her spinal cord and she has a severe concussion. She is in a coma and her life hangs in the balance. Could there be irreparable damage? How will Remington cope if Laura is paralyzed or dies from her injuries?


Disclaimer: Remington Steel is owned by MTM. For entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended. (Some actual dialogue from "Steele Threads" used.)

An AU based on "Steele Threads." What if Laura takes off the jacket before being shot? Though not dead, she remains unconscious when Remington comes to her rescue due to a blow to the head. The bullet is lodged near her spinal cord and she has a severe concussion. She is in a coma and her life hangs in the balance. Could there be irreparable damage? How will Remington cope if Laura is paralyzed or dies from her injuries?

**No Jacket Required**

Laura stood before the full length mirror admiring her reflection, clothed in an ankle length cotton nightgown and a non-nondescript tan suit jacket. After a few moments, she scoffed and shook her head. She plucked at the sleeves of the jacket thoughtfully for a moment before she took it off and draped it over her arm.

A movement in the mirror caught her eye as she moved to mount the steps to the bedroom. The door slid open and the thug she knew as Carl stepped through the opening, a gun in his hand. She turned to face him as she heard the distinctive click of the gun cocking.

"The blazer," Carl growled, as he pointed the gun unwaveringly at her. Laura's mind raced as she eyed the gun and glanced toward the steps once more. She moved slowly toward the steps, careful not to make any sudden movements.

Then it dawned on her. "It was never the film. All this time, it was the jacket everyone wanted," Laura said, quietly, as though to herself.

"No more talk. I want that blazer. Now," Carl hissed through clenched teeth.

Laura, still moving, said, "Not a chance, Carl."

Then she darted toward the steps, hoping against hope that she could make it to the relative safety that the curtained platform afforded. Laura took only a few steps before a shot rang out. A hot stinging sensation caught her in midstride and she crashed to the steps. A sigh escaped her lips as she pitched forward. Her head struck a cast iron pipe rail support and she knew no more.

The bullet had caught her just below her right shoulder blade near the middle of her back. As she lay there, partially curled in a ball, blood trickled from the wound. It left a bloody trail down her back to the carpet and soaked the jacket, still draped over her arm, in vivid red.

As Remington rushed through the partly opened door, Carl turned from his position over Laura's inert body. He straightened from trying to pull the jacket from under her and fired blindly at Remington. For his part Remington tumbled to avoid the shots and he could feel the bullets whiz past as they narrowly missed him. Remington struggled to regain his feet and he could do nothing as Carl darted past him and out the open door.

A look of stunned disbelief stole over his features like a dark cloud, as Remington staggered to his feet and he caught sight of Laura's body for the first time. It was a curled heap, her feet dangling over the edge of a step and blood still trickling from the wound in her back. Sick to the very core of his soul, Remington staggered forward and crawled up the steps to collapse atop her motionless body. His heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his chest. A huge lump formed in his throat and for a moment or two it was impossible to breathe.

"Ah, Laura," he croaked, as he huddled over her still form and kissed her temple, while his tears trickled into her hair and down the side of her face. He put a gentle hand under her head and pulled her to him. Tears continued to leak from his eyes as breathlessly, haltingly he whispered his regrets. Sometime while he whispered, Remington wrapped his arms around Laura's body and cradled her in his arms, rocking her like a small child. Red stickiness covered his hands and soaked the sleeves of his jacket and the front of his shirt.

There he sat holding Laura and he slowly became aware that she was still breathing, slow and shallow, but breathing nonetheless. Reluctantly, Remington laid her on the bed in a more comfortable position and ran to get towels to pack her wound, noting that she had already lost a significant amount of blood. He used her bedside phone to call an ambulance and then there was nothing to do but keep pressure on the wound and wait. Now that he was calmer, he could see the shallow rise and fall of Laura's chest as she struggled for each breath.

The ambulance arrived and Laura was stabilized for transport. As the EMTs lifted her onto the stretcher, Remington caught sight of the jacket, now a crumpled bloody heap on the bedroom floor. Remington looked at it for only a moment longer, before he followed the stretcher to the waiting ambulance.

In the ambulance, Remington held Laura's hand and laid his head near hers on the stretcher. He watched her oxygen masked face for any sign of consciousness. None came. As the ambulance roared through the night, Remington sat still and quiet, his breath catching in his throat. He ran the pad of his thumb over the back of Laura's hand and whispered near her ear, "All this time I have stayed. I have stayed. You can't be the one to leave. You can't leave me. Not now. Not this way. Please, not this way." More tears trickled down and soaked into the sheet on the stretcher.

The ambulance arrived at the hospital. Laura was rushed into the ER and Remington was relegated to the waiting room to pace and worry and pace some more. Sometime during his self-imposed time in hell, Remington got his wits about him enough to call Mildred, who broke all land speed records getting to the hospital.

"Boss!" Mildred called from the hallway, out of breath, as she bustled into the waiting room. "Any news?"

"Nothing yet, Mildred. They're still working on her," Remington choked out, as he turned to embrace the frantic older woman.

Mildred sat down and watched as her beloved boss wore a track in the grey carpet with his pacing. His usually impeccably combed hair was horribly askew from running his fingers through it. Every little while, he would sit down next to Mildred and bury his head in his hands. Mildred could do little for him, but pat his shoulder and whisper encouragement.

After what seemed like forever, the doors opened and a tired looking doctor came to talk to them. "I'm Dr. Horvath. I was able to remove the bullet, but it was lodged very near the spinal cord. It is hard to tell how much damage it did. She could be paralyzed from the mid-chest down, but we won't know till she wakes up. She also sustained a significant blow to the head, which caused a moderate to severe concussion. She is comatose and will probably remain so for some time. Her heart stopped once while we were removing the bullet. We were able to revive her. That's one tough little lady you got there."

"Oh, we know how tough she can be," Remington said tightly and nodded. The smile he gave the doctor came out as more of a grimace than a smile.

"Can we see her?" Mildred asked.

"She is still in recovery, but once she is moved to a bed, someone will come and get you," the doctor said. Remington reached to shake the doctor's hand and said, "Thank you." With that the doctor disappeared through the double doors.

The vigil on the double doors began again. Exhausted from pacing, Remington drowsed in one of the most uncomfortable chairs he had ever had the misfortune to sit in, his arms crossed over his chest, his legs stretched out in front of him. He had removed his jacket. Laura's blood, now dry and stiff, was still evident on the sleeves and the front of his shirt. Mildred busied herself reading a romance novel and glanced every so often at the double doors.

After a time a nurse came through the double doors and gave Mildred a clipboard with some admission forms on it. Mildred filled them out as best she could. She knew nothing of Laura's medical history, but she was able to provide identification and insurance information.

After what seemed another eternity a different nurse came through the double doors, prepared to take them to Laura. Mildred nudged Remington and stage whispered, "Boss, they're gonna take us to see Ms. Holt now."

Remington roused and blinked, unsure for a moment where he was. And then everything came flooding back, including the cold fear that settled in the very pit of his stomach and stalked his soul like a jungle cat.

When they got to Laura's room, Remington asked the nurse, "How is she, really?"

The flipped through Laura's chart for a moment and said, "She is critical, but stable. She is still not out of danger and will have to be closely monitored. We still can't tell how much damage the bullet did to her spinal cord and the blow to her head is still a concern. If she makes it through tonight, her odds will be better."

Remington groaned and ran his fingers through his hair yet again. He swallowed hard before he said, "Thank you," and shook the nurse's hand.

Remington came to the side of Laura's bed and swallowed hard again as he caught sight of her pale face and her still form. The only signs of life were the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the slow steady rise and fall of Laura's chest as she breathed. Remington noted that breathing for her was much less of a struggle for her now than it had been.

Mildred stood quietly by the door, not wanting to disturb this remarkable tableau as she watched the play of emotion on her boss's face. As she watched, a look of pure tenderness stole over Remington's face. He reached to take Laura's hand and he had tears in his eyes as he turned to speak to Mildred.

"She can't leave us, Mildred. She just can't. She is so loved here. I don't know if I could go on if I lost her," Remington choked out.

Mildred came to stand next to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know, Boss. I know. You and Ms. Holt are like my children."

Remington sat in the chair next to the bed, his legs no longer strong enough to hold him up. He shook his head and more tears fell as he brought Laura's hand to his lips. Then, he laid her hand back on the bed, where it stayed, pale and unmoving.

"Boss, I know she loves you, just as much as you love her. She's just too afraid and maybe too stubborn to admit it. You need to give her time to sort it all out in her heart and in her head. You need to show her how you really feel about her and maybe you need to tell her, too. Some women need to hear the words to make it more real," Mildred said in a sage motherly voice.

Remington stroked the top of Laura's hand and shifted his head to one side, thinking, taking in all that Mildred had said. "You may be right, Mildred. If we have the time. If she recovers from this, I'll make the time," Remington promised. He took Laura's hand in his once again. He closed his eyes and willed her with his heart, his mind, his whole being to get well.

Sensing that Remington wanted to be alone, Mildred patted him on the shoulder and said quietly, next to his ear, "If we're going to catch the scuzzball who did this, I've got some work to do. I'll be at the office. Call me if there is any change."

Before she turned to leave, Remington opened his eyes and took hold of her wrist to stay her momentarily. "You might want to call Laura's mother and sister and tell them what happened. They'll probably want to know," Remington said, the reluctance to give up sole claim to his beloved Laura evident in his voice.

"Sure, Boss." Mildred waved and she was gone.

After Mildred left, Remington closed his eyes again. He crossed his arms on the side of the bed and rested his forehead on his arms. He drifted in and out of wakefulness, his dreams a jumble of old memories and feelings, punctuated by the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the periodic appearance of nurses to take Laura's blood pressure and check her IV, oxygen levels and catheter. Finally, exhausted by the day's events, Remington drifted into deep restorative sleep.

A few hours later Remington slowly came awake. He also became aware of Laura's hand under his and the wetness of his tears. Laura was still holding her own, but she still had not regained consciousness.

Mildred came in a little later. She had brought him something to eat and a cup of coffee. When he finished picking at his food and had a few sips of coffee, Mildred handed him the keys to the Auburn and told him to go home and get cleaned up. Remington for the first time became aware of his disheveled state: his wrinkled, bloodstained shirt and jacket; his five o'clock shadow and his mussed hair. At Remington's protests, Mildred looked pointedly at him and said, "I've got this, Boss. Go home. If anything changes, I'll call you."

Remington slunk from the room, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slouched, his head bowed. He drove straight home. It was fortuitous that his apartment was not far from the hospital, since his mind was not on his driving.

He let himself into his apartment and closed the door. He leaned against it for a moment, a pained expression playing about his features. With a sigh of resignation, he pushed away from the door and began peeling off his clothes. By the time he got to the bathroom, he only wore his briefs.

He flipped on the light and turned on the shower. As he waited for the shower to warm, he surveyed his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He touched his jaw as he saw a smear of blood there, Laura's blood. He blinked, willing the tears not to come. This time he managed to keep them at bay.

He removed his briefs and stepped into the shower. He let the warm water wash over him and slowly, methodically, he washed away all the evidence of that terrible night. After he was done, he turned off the water and just stood with his forehead resting against the cool tile. He rolled his head back and forth as he moaned, "Oh, Laura. I thought we had all the time in the world. Will I ever get the chance to show you, to tell you how much I care about you?"

Shaking his head as though to shake off dark and disturbing thoughts, he dried himself off and went about the task of making himself presentable again, shaving and combing his hair. Gone were the smears of blood, but not the pain of the possibility of losing his beautiful and beloved Laura . As he looked in the mirror at his reflection, fresh shaven face and neatly combed hair still damp from his shower, anger hotter and stronger than he had ever experienced bubbled to the surface. With jaw clenched and brows knitted, he nodded resolutely at his reflection. He had something important to do; perhaps one of the most important things he would ever do in his life.

He went to make a phone call. He called Mildred at the hospital. When Mildred answered, Remington said, "Hold the fort, Mildred. Stay with her. I know she would move heaven and earth if I was the one in that bed. I'm going to catch the bastard that did this, Remington said.

"I know she would, Boss. Don't worry about a thing. I've got this. Oh, and when you find him, punch the scumbag in the face for me," Mildred practically crowed.

"I'll do that, Mildred. Just for you," Remington said. He went silent for a moment and then said, "I don't know if she'll hear it or not, but tell her we're going to find who did this to her and make him pay dearly."

"You know I will, Boss," Mildred said earnestly. "Now, go."

"I'll check in periodically," Remington said and was gone.

It took most of the day and every ounce of detective savvy in him, but Remington tracked down Carl. More than once he wished Laura was there with her straight forward approach and analytical mind. Remington delivered Carl to the police station himself, along with the gun that fired the shot that wounded Laura. Carl was a little the less for wear with a black eye, a split lip and a bloodied nose. Before the police led Carl away in handcuffs to be booked, Remington had a few choice words for him.

Remington grabbed Carl by the lapels of his shirt and almost nose to nose, hissed softly, "You tried to kill someone very dear to me. Right now the charge is only criminal trespass and attempted murder. If she dies, the charge will be Murder 1 and I'll make sure it sticks. But you won't make it to serve your sentence, because I will kill you myself. I will have nothing to live for and nothing left to lose and that will make me the most dangerous man you will ever encounter." With that Remington shoved Carl away from him. Carl stumbled and regained his feet with difficulty.

A police officer led Carl away, but as he glanced toward Remington, he had a look of genuine fear in his eyes for the crazed Irishman who threatened to kill him if the girl died. With Carl safely behind bars, Remington returned to the hospital to continue his vigil.

When he got there, Mildred drowsed in the chair, a romance novel open in her lap. It was apparent that she had not moved from that spot since he had called. Remington shook her gently to awaken her. "Are we paying you to sleep?" Remington said, mock sternly.

"Oh, Boss. I'm so sorry," Mildred started and then dithered. It took a moment for her to realize that her boss was just teasing her. She noticed right off that he seemed to be in a much better mood. "Did you get him, Boss?"

"Yes, I did, Mildred. Before I turned Carl over to the police, I gave him quite a thrashing," Remington said. "What I really wanted to do was beat him within an inch of his life, but I restrained myself . . . with difficulty. But for the time being, he is behind bars. That was the easy part. Now all we have to do is figure out the rest, a difficult thing without Laura's brilliance to guide us on our way."

Mildred nodded and said, "Yeah, Boss," as she vacated the chair and stepped aside.

"Still no change?" he asked as he slumped into the chair and took Laura's hand once again.

"Nothing, Boss," Mildred said and shrugged, the frustration and helplessness clear in her voice.

Remington went to the side of the bed and glanced with trepidation at Laura's pale face. He reached to move a stray lock of hair from her forehead before planting a tender kiss there. He leaned close to her ear and said very softly, "Carl is in jail and has been charged with attempted murder. God, I wish you were here to help us figure out the rest. You are very loved here and we want you to stay. We need you to stay."

Now that he was clean and had fresh clothes, he felt that he could handle whatever happened next.

RSLHRSLH

Three more days passed with no change. On the fourth day Laura had a cardiac emergency and had to be shocked back into sinus rhythm. Remington stood plastered against the wall, watching in shock and fear as the crash team worked feverishly to save Laura's life.

Bulletz Blaustein came by and brought flowers, offering his regrets that Laura had gotten hurt pursuing the case. Remington shook his hand and told him there were no hard feelings.

The next morning Remington drowsed next to the bed his head on his arms, one hand wrapped around Laura's hand. He slowly became aware of fingers playing with his hair and stroking the top of his head. He blinked and raised his head to find Laura smiling at him, her eyes bright and alert. Remington smiled back and reached to touch her face.

Laura moved a little and groaned. "What happened? How long have I been out?" she asked haltingly, breathless with pain. Her back hurt abominably and her head felt like it was going to explode.

Remington brought her hand to his lips. In a choked voice, he said, "Carl shot you as you tried to get to your bedroom. I found you bleeding on the steps. At first I thought you were dead, you were so still and pale. You had lost an awful lot of blood by the time I got you to the hospital. I tracked Carl down and swore out a warrant for his arrest for attempted murder. I turned him over to the police along with the gun, but not before giving him a thrashing for good measure. I told him if you died, I would kill him myself, because I would have no reason to live and nothing left to lose."

A look of pure bewilderment came across Laura's face and after rummaging around in her drug and pain befuddled brain, she could come up with nothing better to say than, "That was very noble of you." But her eyes said much, much more.

Laura's other hand stroked the side of Remington's face, rough again with a day's growth of beard. "You still didn't answer my other question. How long have I been out?"

"Seven days. Seven long and torturous days," Remington sighed. "You were knocked unconscious when your head hit one of the pipes at the top of the steps. You have a concussion. The bullet lodged near your spinal cord and they still don't know how much damage it did. And your heart stopped," he said, his voice choked and pained.

Laura continued to stroke his face. "Oh, my poor, poor Harry. What a time you've had," she said as though speaking to a small child.

Just then a nurse appeared. "Up and about at last, I see," she said, cheerily. "This guy has been pretty worried about you and has barely left your side." Laura blinked in surprise and a speculative smile came to her face as she looked at Remington. The nurse took Laura's blood pressure and checked her IV, oxygen saturation and catheter. She smiled and left, saying a doctor would be in to see her shortly.

The doctor came in to check on Laura. He checked her reflexes, leg and arm movement, and pain response in her feet and legs. Her wound was healing nicely with no sign of infection and pronounced that the bullet had done minimal damage. He said he wanted to keep her a few more days to monitor her heart and her concussion. "You're going to have a killer headache for a few days and some pain in your back, but other than that, you're going to be fine, just fine. I'll prescribe something for your headache and you can get out of bed tomorrow, if all is well." They thanked the doctor profusely and with that Laura and Remington were left alone once again.

"Looks like I have my Laura back," Remington breathed, a hand on each side of her face and his forehead touching hers.

"You really didn't leave my side?" Laura drew back to catch his gaze and asked in amazement.

"Well, not for the last five days or so, but Mildred was here the rest of the time," Remington answered, his tone self-deprecating.

Laura stilled as Remington wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, just below her ear, as he had done a hundred times before. "Perhaps there is some hope for us after all," she said in a near whisper. She smiled and turned into his hand to kiss it.

"Perhaps there is," Remington answered and smiled back.

Just then Mildred came bustling in saying something about the hospital calling and saying Laura was awake. Quiet time was over for now. But there would be another time and another place.

Now that he knew what it felt like to almost lose his precious and beautiful Laura, things would be different. Remington had made a promise to Laura and himself that it would be so.


End file.
